It was a long, ornately decorated table. Gold and purple tapestries hung magnificently along the walls of the room, giving the room the regal feel that it needed to exude. Each chair was elaborately decorated and matched the rest of the room. In fact, every bit of furniture or decoration in that chamber seemed to blend in with the room. Nothing seemed out of place.
The noisy chatter coming from the room was starting to get to me. I almost always enjoy the sessions that I have at the council of rulers, the operative word being almost. This was one of those exceptional days. The day had started pleasantly enough for me, but the sudden arrival of the Secretarial Minister happily chatting with the Aesthetics Minister about God knows what had soured my mood considerably.
Alicia saw right through my badly disguised frown and settled herself beside me. She put her hand on my arm and smiled that warm, knowing smile of hers. She knew what I was thinking. She was also telling me that I was an idiot.
Years of working with her has led us to be able to communicate without actually saying anything. We knew what the other was thinking, even if the thoughts were intentionally obscured. She was my dearest friend, and closest adviser, but we both knew that we were much too similar to be of much use counseling each other. Sometimes an alternate perspective is needed, and she couldn't provide one, since her perspective was almost always mine. But she knew me, and she could put things into perspective like no one can.
"You know you are wasting your time right?"Her question was cautious, probing.
"Yeah, I do."
Alicia sighed. "You're messed up you know. They are just good friends. They talk a lot to each other. They like each other's company. So what? Why are you so affected just seeing them?"
I stared at her. She stared straight back at me and then looked away, rolling her eyes.
"You don't know," she said. "Bloody brilliant. Of course you don't."
She kept talking. "Let me tell you why. You hate one of them. You like the other. People you like, you want to befriend. And knowing you, you like him enough to want exclusive rights. It doesn't work that way. And you know that. Thats why you're not saying anything about it. You'd be the laughing stock of the council. But its gnawing at you, eating at you everytime you see them share a joke or tell each other about whats bothering them. You want to end it, but you know its impossible. So you sit there, grit your teeth and be miserable."
"I'm not miserable," I retorted. She snorted and shook her head.
She leaned in close to me and said, "Let it go. Its not worth it."
Then she stood up, gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze and left me.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Meep
Eddie Saguero glanced down at the controls that lay beneath his fingers, caressing them lightly. They glowed eerily in the darkness of his cockpit, the symbols of each button clearly visible. Eddie had done this so many times, it had become second nature to him, but this time, there was something different as he prepared to leave the hangar. He couldn't quite place it, but he knew that something wasn't quite right with the mission. Some people called it a warrior's instinct. Others dismissed it as superstition or a bad lunch that was back with a vengeance. It didn't really matter. Eddie wasn't in any position to be picky about the missions he had to run. The Clan raids had already taken a considerable toll on the Inner Sphere war effort. He was a soldier, an instrument of war. He received orders and executed them. It was't his place to ask questions or wonder what the point of all his missions were.
"When you're ready, Eddie,". The voice startled Eddie. He snapped out of his pensive stare at the console and moved to power up his 60 ton harbinger of death. Harbinger of death. At least thats the way he would like to call his mech to distract himself from the fact that the 90 ton machines that he might run into would turn his 'harbinger' to scrap metal quite easily. Still, nothing like a good dose of self delusion to get the spirits up before a mission.
Eddie powered up his mech and listened to the comforting sound of the fans of his fusion reactors starting to spin. His heads up display lit up immediately, and he heard the clinical, yet strangely seductive female voice of his on board computer running him through his system diagnostics.
"Nav Baker Three"
"Ambient tempetature, 24.49 degrees"
"Local time is seven five, three five, seven six, GST"
"All systems nominal"
On that cue, Eddie eased the throttle forward, making the mech take its first few tentative steps away from the support beams that surrounded it as it docked. The mech produced a resounding thump everytime it took a step, its metal legs hitting the concrete floor of the hangar with the same comfortingly familiar sound it always made. Eddie toyed with the torso controls a bit, turning to get a feel of the machine he was piloting. His eyes wandered over to the screen that showed his weapon statuses. They were highlighted in green, each of them showing a full stock of ammunition. He wondered inwardly if he had chosen the right armanent for his mission. He favoured energy weapons over everything else, which explained the extensive heat sinks on his mech. He knew that he would outlast most projectile or rocket oriented builds in a long fight, but wasn't quite sure if he could evade the onslaught long enough to take advantage of his relative independence from ammunition constraints. After all, he didn't have the most well armoured unit in the hangar.
As Eddie stepped out of the hangar, he hammered the throttle forward and made towards his nav point. The fine dust that his mech kicked up only served as a reminder of just how dry and hot this planet was, which in turn brought him back to questioning the wisdom of being dependent on beam weapons. He shrugged to himself. The choices had been made. Any cock-ups would be his to bear.
Passing the first nav point, nothing had yet happened. Not a life form in sight. Another boring patrol.
Then his sensors beeped. A red triangle showed up at the right of his radar. Eddie perked up.
"Control, I'm getting signs of an anamoly in sector seven. I'm moving to check it out," Eddie relayed speaking into the mike.
"Copy that Delta 3. Be careful out there," came the reply.
As he drew closer to the target, Eddie could see a crater smack in the middle of where he was headed for. A small, wispy slither of smoke rose out from the middle of the crater. Dust billowed around the blackened center, obscuring the line of sight through his cockpit. Eddie decided to draw closer, his thumb resting on the trigger of his primary weapons group.
Visibility was almost zero at this point. He turned of the image enhancement system, and everything went black. The contours of the hills before him were represented with coloured lines, as was the object that had made the crater. It was metallic, that much he knew. And very, very hot.
A million possibilities raced through his head. Was it a clan probe? Was it a scout? A single light mech sent to record data and clear the landing for a invading fleet? Blood rushed through his veins as his heart thumped.
Eddie drew closer and the image of the object got sharper. It had jagged edges and a fairly irregular shape. It certainly didn't look industrial, much less space age. He ran a quick scan on it when he got close enough. His computers beeped and whirred as the numbers where crunched.
The green fonts of his heads up display flashed "Object identified".
Below it, the results flashed. Meteorite. It was the most anti-climatic moment in his life. Eddie sighed.
In the monotony of the daily patrols, he sometimes wished that something will happen. But nothing ever did.
"When you're ready, Eddie,". The voice startled Eddie. He snapped out of his pensive stare at the console and moved to power up his 60 ton harbinger of death. Harbinger of death. At least thats the way he would like to call his mech to distract himself from the fact that the 90 ton machines that he might run into would turn his 'harbinger' to scrap metal quite easily. Still, nothing like a good dose of self delusion to get the spirits up before a mission.
Eddie powered up his mech and listened to the comforting sound of the fans of his fusion reactors starting to spin. His heads up display lit up immediately, and he heard the clinical, yet strangely seductive female voice of his on board computer running him through his system diagnostics.
"Nav Baker Three"
"Ambient tempetature, 24.49 degrees"
"Local time is seven five, three five, seven six, GST"
"All systems nominal"
On that cue, Eddie eased the throttle forward, making the mech take its first few tentative steps away from the support beams that surrounded it as it docked. The mech produced a resounding thump everytime it took a step, its metal legs hitting the concrete floor of the hangar with the same comfortingly familiar sound it always made. Eddie toyed with the torso controls a bit, turning to get a feel of the machine he was piloting. His eyes wandered over to the screen that showed his weapon statuses. They were highlighted in green, each of them showing a full stock of ammunition. He wondered inwardly if he had chosen the right armanent for his mission. He favoured energy weapons over everything else, which explained the extensive heat sinks on his mech. He knew that he would outlast most projectile or rocket oriented builds in a long fight, but wasn't quite sure if he could evade the onslaught long enough to take advantage of his relative independence from ammunition constraints. After all, he didn't have the most well armoured unit in the hangar.
As Eddie stepped out of the hangar, he hammered the throttle forward and made towards his nav point. The fine dust that his mech kicked up only served as a reminder of just how dry and hot this planet was, which in turn brought him back to questioning the wisdom of being dependent on beam weapons. He shrugged to himself. The choices had been made. Any cock-ups would be his to bear.
Passing the first nav point, nothing had yet happened. Not a life form in sight. Another boring patrol.
Then his sensors beeped. A red triangle showed up at the right of his radar. Eddie perked up.
"Control, I'm getting signs of an anamoly in sector seven. I'm moving to check it out," Eddie relayed speaking into the mike.
"Copy that Delta 3. Be careful out there," came the reply.
As he drew closer to the target, Eddie could see a crater smack in the middle of where he was headed for. A small, wispy slither of smoke rose out from the middle of the crater. Dust billowed around the blackened center, obscuring the line of sight through his cockpit. Eddie decided to draw closer, his thumb resting on the trigger of his primary weapons group.
Visibility was almost zero at this point. He turned of the image enhancement system, and everything went black. The contours of the hills before him were represented with coloured lines, as was the object that had made the crater. It was metallic, that much he knew. And very, very hot.
A million possibilities raced through his head. Was it a clan probe? Was it a scout? A single light mech sent to record data and clear the landing for a invading fleet? Blood rushed through his veins as his heart thumped.
Eddie drew closer and the image of the object got sharper. It had jagged edges and a fairly irregular shape. It certainly didn't look industrial, much less space age. He ran a quick scan on it when he got close enough. His computers beeped and whirred as the numbers where crunched.
The green fonts of his heads up display flashed "Object identified".
Below it, the results flashed. Meteorite. It was the most anti-climatic moment in his life. Eddie sighed.
In the monotony of the daily patrols, he sometimes wished that something will happen. But nothing ever did.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Of Epiphanies and a mid life crisis
I think I probably call the tiniest of revelations epiphanies so I guess the word in itself tends to lose a bit of impact. But when you have an experience that leaves you brooding for a few hours, thinking, and then feeling like you just had a mid life crisis because nothing around you seems to matter very much, then I'd say its probably worth paying more than a little attention to it.
Now there is only the small matter of encapsuling the feeling and sustaining it, because if it does go away, then I suspect it will be next to impossible to recapture in the short term.
Feeling like shit, but knowing that you need to feel this way for your own good sucks.
Now there is only the small matter of encapsuling the feeling and sustaining it, because if it does go away, then I suspect it will be next to impossible to recapture in the short term.
Feeling like shit, but knowing that you need to feel this way for your own good sucks.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Random post
It was a strange feeling really. Not that he wasn't used to it, but most of the time it slid under the consciousness. It was covert, but always let him know that it was there. Naturally, he learned to ignore it, as he did so many other slightly unpleasant experiences that he encountered. And it never really pushed the issue. It was content being a needle in the side, constantly harassing him with a little prick here and there and waiting for his measured response that would inevitably come out of frustration.
But this time, it chose a very interesting time to surface. Its likely that its caused by the general disillusionment that he felt about the subject matter that lay before him. It happened when he stared at the clock in front of him and noted that he had plenty of time to complete the tasks that lay before him. His brain decided to take a short detour. Some might call him irresponsible for doing that. After all, the questions he was answering was part of the system that is supposedly his only purpose in life for the time being. Admittedly, he had stopped caring about his purpose a long time ago as the people who watched his slow but steady slide.
But I'm rambling. We're here to talk about recent history, not well established facts about our subject.
If he were to be perfectly honest with himself, he probably wanted it to happen. He doesn't really remember what happened actually, and what I write here is just based on a very clinical account of his version of the story. I suspect he was being quite honest though.
The amazing part about this situation is that he never goes into those really disturbing bouts of emotional upheaval that have become part and parcel of his life. I wonder if this is a unique case, or if he is actually changing.
It serves him quite well, this state of mind. Treating it like it was inconsequential does help him get on with things, but the inevitable doubts of whether he is trying hard enough surface. I've lost count of the number of times that I have seen him flinch when he hears Jason Mraz on the radio. I can hear him sigh, even if no one else can. I think he is heading in the right direction though. Nice good dose of confidence coupled with his usual sincerity by the truckloads. And for once, believing that it is not the end of the world if the next phase of life that he has hyped up to be a make or break doesn't work out.
I still cheer him on. Good luck mate.
But this time, it chose a very interesting time to surface. Its likely that its caused by the general disillusionment that he felt about the subject matter that lay before him. It happened when he stared at the clock in front of him and noted that he had plenty of time to complete the tasks that lay before him. His brain decided to take a short detour. Some might call him irresponsible for doing that. After all, the questions he was answering was part of the system that is supposedly his only purpose in life for the time being. Admittedly, he had stopped caring about his purpose a long time ago as the people who watched his slow but steady slide.
But I'm rambling. We're here to talk about recent history, not well established facts about our subject.
If he were to be perfectly honest with himself, he probably wanted it to happen. He doesn't really remember what happened actually, and what I write here is just based on a very clinical account of his version of the story. I suspect he was being quite honest though.
The amazing part about this situation is that he never goes into those really disturbing bouts of emotional upheaval that have become part and parcel of his life. I wonder if this is a unique case, or if he is actually changing.
It serves him quite well, this state of mind. Treating it like it was inconsequential does help him get on with things, but the inevitable doubts of whether he is trying hard enough surface. I've lost count of the number of times that I have seen him flinch when he hears Jason Mraz on the radio. I can hear him sigh, even if no one else can. I think he is heading in the right direction though. Nice good dose of confidence coupled with his usual sincerity by the truckloads. And for once, believing that it is not the end of the world if the next phase of life that he has hyped up to be a make or break doesn't work out.
I still cheer him on. Good luck mate.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Ohy, Ashley Cole. You bloody cunt faced git.
Did you know that Ashley Cole has written a biography? Yep, he has joined the ranks of the hundreds of footballers that think that they have been misunderstood in some way and writing about it will somehow miraculously bring about comprehension of their side of the story.
Well, I normally wouldn't care what happens in the personal lives of footballers, but I just so happen to be linked to the review of the biography. Lets see what Ashley has to say.
"One day I was just chilling with my homies, when this geezer call Jose come round me manor giving it large, saying he wants me to go hang with the Chelsea massive. Well, at the time I has got the hump with Arsenal, right, cos that David Dein has just offered me a contract for 55 long uns a week when I is expecting 60, minimum. Don't get me wrong, blood, it's not about the money. I is an ordinary lad from an ordinary background, for me money ain't what I am in the game for. I'd play for nothing, any day of the week.
"Which is roughly what Arsenal is expecting me to do. 55 a week: it's a joke. This Dein is dissin me, right? He is well out of order. So I says to this Jose: 'what you got then?' And this bald geezer what is with him gets out this like humungous cheque book and I'm telling you, the moment he gets it out, I feels six foot tall. Which is just as well, as this Jose says he ain't interested in left backs what are midgets.
"Now, as I say, Ashley Cole is just an ordinary lad what has supported Arsenal all his life, and he plays for the love of the game, that is his only motivation. Money and that, that's for others to work on. So from there on in, I leave things to my team of six agents, five accountants, three lawyers and seven actuaries. Plus the bloke what advises on off-shore investments in Chilean bearer bonds and Argentine footballers [they tell me, at the last count, that Ashley Cole owns three of Carlos Tevez's toes].
"While they is chatting, I just gets on with being part of the best team England has sent to the World Cup in 40 years, full of world-class players in every position. And I tell you what, we is that close to winning the thing. In fact, we would have done if we hadn't lost to the team that lost to the team that lost in the final.
"After that, I gets married. And that's another thing that the media gets all wrong. People think that me and Cheryl is just interested in seeing our picture in the papers, but that's rubbish, we is not like that. For Ashley Cole and his missus, it's magazines or nothing.
"Eventually I sign for Chelsea. I have to pinch myself to believe it's happening to me, an ordinary kid from an ordinary north London family: almost winning the World Cup, marrying the girl of every bloke's dreams and then joining the club I've supported ever since I seen the size of Peter Kenyon's wad. And the best thing is, I can walk away from Arsenal with my head held high. For Ashley Cole it has never been about money. It's all about respeck, innit."
When I finished reading it, the only thing I was thinking was WTF was that? I know people always say that footballers are stupid, but that is just in a league of its own. Thats not even english that he is writing. What the fuck is up with the nigga talk? Since when does a rich ass spoilt brat qualify to use street talk like that? And the ego, dear god!
Oh, and check out his analysis of England's performance in the World Cup. They lost to the team that lost to the team that lost the final. And he calls that close to winning. How is being beaten in the quarters even considered close to winning? The statement is so delusional, I don't think I'd be able to come up with shit like that if I smoked a joint, did some blow and downed 3 graveyards in the same night.
Misguided, egoistic and stupid, Ashley Cole has just cemented himself as the stupidest footballer since George Best. I think its amazing to note that he is going to spend the rest of his life in a delusion about just how great his life is without ever realizing how much of the real world he has missed.
Dumbass.
Well, I normally wouldn't care what happens in the personal lives of footballers, but I just so happen to be linked to the review of the biography. Lets see what Ashley has to say.
"One day I was just chilling with my homies, when this geezer call Jose come round me manor giving it large, saying he wants me to go hang with the Chelsea massive. Well, at the time I has got the hump with Arsenal, right, cos that David Dein has just offered me a contract for 55 long uns a week when I is expecting 60, minimum. Don't get me wrong, blood, it's not about the money. I is an ordinary lad from an ordinary background, for me money ain't what I am in the game for. I'd play for nothing, any day of the week.
"Which is roughly what Arsenal is expecting me to do. 55 a week: it's a joke. This Dein is dissin me, right? He is well out of order. So I says to this Jose: 'what you got then?' And this bald geezer what is with him gets out this like humungous cheque book and I'm telling you, the moment he gets it out, I feels six foot tall. Which is just as well, as this Jose says he ain't interested in left backs what are midgets.
"Now, as I say, Ashley Cole is just an ordinary lad what has supported Arsenal all his life, and he plays for the love of the game, that is his only motivation. Money and that, that's for others to work on. So from there on in, I leave things to my team of six agents, five accountants, three lawyers and seven actuaries. Plus the bloke what advises on off-shore investments in Chilean bearer bonds and Argentine footballers [they tell me, at the last count, that Ashley Cole owns three of Carlos Tevez's toes].
"While they is chatting, I just gets on with being part of the best team England has sent to the World Cup in 40 years, full of world-class players in every position. And I tell you what, we is that close to winning the thing. In fact, we would have done if we hadn't lost to the team that lost to the team that lost in the final.
"After that, I gets married. And that's another thing that the media gets all wrong. People think that me and Cheryl is just interested in seeing our picture in the papers, but that's rubbish, we is not like that. For Ashley Cole and his missus, it's magazines or nothing.
"Eventually I sign for Chelsea. I have to pinch myself to believe it's happening to me, an ordinary kid from an ordinary north London family: almost winning the World Cup, marrying the girl of every bloke's dreams and then joining the club I've supported ever since I seen the size of Peter Kenyon's wad. And the best thing is, I can walk away from Arsenal with my head held high. For Ashley Cole it has never been about money. It's all about respeck, innit."
When I finished reading it, the only thing I was thinking was WTF was that? I know people always say that footballers are stupid, but that is just in a league of its own. Thats not even english that he is writing. What the fuck is up with the nigga talk? Since when does a rich ass spoilt brat qualify to use street talk like that? And the ego, dear god!
Oh, and check out his analysis of England's performance in the World Cup. They lost to the team that lost to the team that lost the final. And he calls that close to winning. How is being beaten in the quarters even considered close to winning? The statement is so delusional, I don't think I'd be able to come up with shit like that if I smoked a joint, did some blow and downed 3 graveyards in the same night.
Misguided, egoistic and stupid, Ashley Cole has just cemented himself as the stupidest footballer since George Best. I think its amazing to note that he is going to spend the rest of his life in a delusion about just how great his life is without ever realizing how much of the real world he has missed.
Dumbass.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
How a debate is viewed.
Obama is taking on McCain in what is likely to be the most important US election in recent memory, but strangely enough, a lot of the attention is centered around their running mates. And because I was bored and didn't want to study, I was reading a little on the debate that they had recently. I didn't watch the debate per se but the reactions to the debate are interestingly varied. Lets start with what is likely to be a clearly pro-McCain camp.
Dick Morris declared the debate a clear win for Palin. He was raving on and on about how in touch the Republican was with the people and how well she connected. I checked him out a little. Apparently he used to help Mr. Clinton, but later got disillusioned by both husband and wife. He even wrote a book to diss on Hilary's book. And while he makes a living from giving advice to politicians, his predictions on politics are famously off the mark. (According to him, we are supposed to be seeing Mrs Clinton take on Ms Rice in the 2008 presidential race. LOL) Plus, there is a youtube video of him insulting a co-anchor of a FOX program after the co-anchor started questioning his analysis of the debate.
Then there is the BBC. They called it a draw, which is the safest thing to say. But their take on it was a little different. According to their correspondent, both the running mates have a tendency of screwing up in public, and the fact that they both gave solid performances is an achievement for them both.
Finally, there is the debating world. Some of the best adjudicators in the world came together and blogged about the debate using the world's debating format and scoring system. They gave the debate to Biden in a 6-1 split. 2 of them decided that Biden hammered Palin. They gave a 12 point margin. Let me put that into perspective. If an adjudication core saw such a margin in any round of a tournament, they will assume that there is a mistake and call up the adjudicator that gave that score to make sure that the debate really was that one sided. Its a proper trashing, the kind you see when University of Sydney takes on a bunch of stammering non-english speakers and are in a particularly unforgiving mood. The other 4 gave clear wins to Biden and the one dissenting fellow said that Palin nicked it by the breadth of an Alaskan snowflake. http://electiondebates.wordpress.com/ for more information.
So the world of debating thinks that Biden pwned Palin. But thats just the world of debating, a somewhat ideal place where facts and logic matter more than they usually do in the real world. And more often than not, elections are won by emotion and empty rethoric which the McCain camp has by the gas guzzling truckloads. They have the gun-toting rednecks on their side, the kind of people who believe foreign policy involves negotiating with Canada and Mexico because everyone else is just too far away to matter. The kind that will actually buy Palin's line of how Alaska's proximity to Russia makes her a more competent person in dealing with Putin and his trigger happy regime. As hard as I find it to believe, Obama's calm and level headed approach to the problems that the US is facing is being described as a disadvantage for him.
Thanks to two terms that will immortalize Bush as the worst president that the US has ever seen, people have called this election unlosable for the Democrats. I don't have anything against the Republicans as a general group, but seeing how they managed to pick a Bush clone as their nominee, I certainly hope, for the sake of humanity that those people are right.
Dick Morris declared the debate a clear win for Palin. He was raving on and on about how in touch the Republican was with the people and how well she connected. I checked him out a little. Apparently he used to help Mr. Clinton, but later got disillusioned by both husband and wife. He even wrote a book to diss on Hilary's book. And while he makes a living from giving advice to politicians, his predictions on politics are famously off the mark. (According to him, we are supposed to be seeing Mrs Clinton take on Ms Rice in the 2008 presidential race. LOL) Plus, there is a youtube video of him insulting a co-anchor of a FOX program after the co-anchor started questioning his analysis of the debate.
Then there is the BBC. They called it a draw, which is the safest thing to say. But their take on it was a little different. According to their correspondent, both the running mates have a tendency of screwing up in public, and the fact that they both gave solid performances is an achievement for them both.
Finally, there is the debating world. Some of the best adjudicators in the world came together and blogged about the debate using the world's debating format and scoring system. They gave the debate to Biden in a 6-1 split. 2 of them decided that Biden hammered Palin. They gave a 12 point margin. Let me put that into perspective. If an adjudication core saw such a margin in any round of a tournament, they will assume that there is a mistake and call up the adjudicator that gave that score to make sure that the debate really was that one sided. Its a proper trashing, the kind you see when University of Sydney takes on a bunch of stammering non-english speakers and are in a particularly unforgiving mood. The other 4 gave clear wins to Biden and the one dissenting fellow said that Palin nicked it by the breadth of an Alaskan snowflake. http://electiondebates.wordpress.com/ for more information.
So the world of debating thinks that Biden pwned Palin. But thats just the world of debating, a somewhat ideal place where facts and logic matter more than they usually do in the real world. And more often than not, elections are won by emotion and empty rethoric which the McCain camp has by the gas guzzling truckloads. They have the gun-toting rednecks on their side, the kind of people who believe foreign policy involves negotiating with Canada and Mexico because everyone else is just too far away to matter. The kind that will actually buy Palin's line of how Alaska's proximity to Russia makes her a more competent person in dealing with Putin and his trigger happy regime. As hard as I find it to believe, Obama's calm and level headed approach to the problems that the US is facing is being described as a disadvantage for him.
Thanks to two terms that will immortalize Bush as the worst president that the US has ever seen, people have called this election unlosable for the Democrats. I don't have anything against the Republicans as a general group, but seeing how they managed to pick a Bush clone as their nominee, I certainly hope, for the sake of humanity that those people are right.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Thursday, October 02, 2008
English 101.
People, the words extend and extent do not have the same meaning and cannot be used interchangeably.
extend - to stretch out; draw out to the full length: He extended the measuring tape as far as it would go.
extent - the space or degree to which a thing extends; length, area, volume, or scope: the extent of his lands; to be right to a certain extent.
I know I'm just being a stickler for rules here coz people who read the words in context will know what is being said, but its important. So please get it right.
Ktnxbai.
extend - to stretch out; draw out to the full length: He extended the measuring tape as far as it would go.
extent - the space or degree to which a thing extends; length, area, volume, or scope: the extent of his lands; to be right to a certain extent.
I know I'm just being a stickler for rules here coz people who read the words in context will know what is being said, but its important. So please get it right.
Ktnxbai.
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